


Intertwined and Overrun

by idoltina



Category: Glee
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-23
Updated: 2011-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-21 16:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idoltina/pseuds/idoltina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine is nineteen and home for the summer, a newly minted college sophomore. The hospital lights are blindingly bright, but the world has never been darker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings (if any):** Language, sex

_When you love someone like I loved her, they're a part of you. It's like you're attached invisible tether and no matter how far away you are, you can always feel them._

Blaine is nineteen and home for the summer, a newly minted college sophomore. The hospital lights are blindingly bright, but the world has never been darker.

Blaine glances over and sees Finn sling an arm around his mom. Carole has tears streaming down her face. The boys keeps glancing at the door every time someone walks by. For the most part, Blaine keeps his eyes trained on the clock. When Finn crosses the room to the water filter, Blaine follows him. “You want me to go?” he asks in a low tone, glancing over his shoulder at Carole.

Finn nods slightly. “Would you? I don't really want to leave her alone right now.”

Blaine digs in his pockets for his keys. “You'll call or text if you hear anything?”

“First thing,” Finn promises. “You sure you can handle breaking this to him? I hate to make you do it, but --” Blaine holds up a hand, refusing to say _I'll be fine_ when he knows he won't.

At the airport, Kurt sends a text -- _Just landed!_ \-- but takes ages to get from his gate to security. By the time he crosses the threshold, Blaine's already been down to baggage claim and back. Kurt launches himself into Blaine's arms, humming happily. Feeling Kurt, touching Kurt, holding Kurt, for the first time in months makes Blaine's heart ache, and he hates that he's not strong enough to keep his composure. When they pull away, he's nearly crying and Kurt reaches up a hand to touch his face. “What's the matter?”

Blaine wants to say _I missed you_ but he's got a job to do and Kurt will kill him for every second he waits to tell him. “There... was an accident,” he says gently, his voice breaking.

Kurt blanches in a matter of seconds and Blaine's heart just shatters. “Is -- is he...?”

“Unconscious,” Blaine supplies quickly. “We don't know much else.”

In the car, Kurt doesn't say a word and Blaine knows he shouldn't but he reaches out a hand to cover Kurt's anyway and is grateful when Kurt doesn't pull away. When they enter the waiting room, its occupants look up. “Kurt,” Carole breathes. “Oh, Kurt, oh honey, I --” Kurt crosses the room and settles in at Carole's knees, rubbing his hands across them affectionately. Finn casts a glance at Blaine and mouths _Thank you_.

It's an hour before anyone bothers to tell them anything. It's good news, thankfully; Burt's conscious and -- albeit a few stitches -- seems to have escaped unscathed. As one, Carole and her sons move to Burt's room, Blaine lingering a little behind. In the room, Burt's smiles and laughter are infectious and his family leaves their previously somber mood in the hallway. Blaine watches from the doorway until Burt catches his eye. “Hey, kiddo!” he greets warmly, gesturing for Blaine to join them. The corner of Blaine's mouth twitches but he can't find it in him to actually smile just yet. He lets Burt shake his hand -- _they could have lost Burt in that car accident_ \-- and thank him for bringing Kurt -- _Kurt's plane could have crashed_ \-- and for sitting with his family in the hospital -- _there were people all around him, sick or dead or dying_ \-- “Blaine? Something on your mind, kid?”

Blaine's resolve leaves him and he throws himself onto Burt, sobbing viciously into his shoulder. It's a moment before Burt's arms reach up slowly to encircle him, and another few before Blaine feels Kurt's hand on his shoulder. He pulls away, mumbling an apology, but Burt keeps a firm grip on his arms. “Hey,” Burt says gently, “it's okay.” His eyes sweep over Blaine's face and God, Blaine must look a wreck right now. Burt nods, and Kurt's hand tugs at Blaine's shoulder, ushering him back into the waiting room.

Blaine doesn't bother with chairs; he finds a corner and sits, drawing his knees up to his chest. Kurt stands, watching him, and Blaine can tell he's debating whether or not to join him. “Blaine, my dad's fine... _I'm_ fine. What -- Why are you so upset?”

“I miss you,” Blaine says.

Kurt's brow furrows in confusion. “What -- That doesn't even make sense. You just cried into my dad's shoulder because you missed me?”

“ _I miss you_ ,” Blaine says brokenly, and -- _fuck_ , he's crying again. Kurt makes his decision and kneels in front of him, adopting the same role he'd taken when Carole had greeted him earlier.

Kurt's hands find his knees. “Blaine, come on, please, talk to me. What's wrong?” Kurt is pleading with him and it breaks him a little more.

“How --” Blaine starts, struggling to form words. “Why did I think I could do this?” Kurt raises his eyebrows, silently asking for clarification. “Long distance. I just -- being together at Dalton and McKinley was different. We're in different states, Kurt. We're eight hundred miles apart most of the year. This is the first time I've seen you in six months.”

Kurt's face shows every sign of patience but Blaine knows it's a facade, can feel Kurt's body trembling. “What --” Kurt pauses to collect himself, choosing his words carefully. “What does this have to do with my dad's car accident, Blaine?”

“He could have _died_ ,” Blaine says, like that's supposed to explain everything. But Kurt shakes his head and clearly, it doesn't. “You could have died, on that plane.”

His hysteria must be showing because Kurt moves his hands from Blaine's knees to his face, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Hey, stop, look at me. I'm right here. I'm fine. My dad's fine.”

Blaine's eyes water again as he brings his hands up to encircle Kurt's wrists. “I just spent the better part of the last year away from you. I don't want to do that again, not anymore. I --” Blaine blinks and shakes his head a little wildly. “I don't care what it takes. I'll come out to New York. I'll transfer to NYU. There's no reason for me to stay in Chicago --”

“Blaine,” Kurt cuts in. “Blaine, think about what you're saying. Think about what you're giving up. You have your own life in Chicago, you can't just --”

“I don't,” Blaine says, and he means it. “Kurt, I just -- I just picked Northwestern at random. It's a good school but it's in Chicago and it's far, too far away from home.” He doesn't say what he really means: _too far away from you_. Kurt studies his face and Blaine can practically hear his brain whirring. “Don't do that,” he demands. “Don't try to make this out to be more complicated than it actually is. Don't try and get me to change my mind. Don't make me go back to that empty apartment.” Kurt purses his lips and Blaine can tell he's annoyed, but Blaine doesn't care because Kurt doesn't have any idea what it's been like, why he needs this. He plays his trump card. “Don't leave me alone.”

Kurt's shoulders fall a little and Blaine can tell he's winning this battle. “There is nothing weighing me down.” And it's true and as negative connotation as that phrase carries, Blaine needs that. He needs an anchor. He needs Kurt. He doesn't want to be left alone, swallowed whole...

“So... you want to move in with me?”

Blaine stares at Kurt incredulously and, for the first time in days, he smiles. “Yes,” he laughs. “Yes, you idiot.” Kurt swats him on the chest for the insult but smiles shyly in return. There's a comfortable silence between them for a few minutes before Blaine breaks it. “I care about your dad, you know.”

Kurt smiles fondly and nods. “I know.”

Blaine threads his fingers through Kurt's and shifts his shoulders nervously. “Sometimes I wish he were mine.” It's the first time Blaine's made the admission and Kurt senses what it means in the offing but doesn't comment.

“Ahem.” Finn stands in the doorway, a paper cup in hand. “Burt wants to see you,” he says, indicating Kurt with an index finger. “Mom said she'd take you home in a little while, said Blaine and I could go ahead.” Kurt looks to Blaine, who nods. He kisses Blaine's forehead instead of his lips and pushes himself to his feet to leave the room. Finn walks over and offers out a hand to Blaine, who takes it and lets Finn help hoist him to his feet. “I got you this,” Finn says, awkwardly shifting the cup into Blaine's hand. “Tea from the cafeteria. Mom said to get decaf.”

“Thanks,” Blaine says quietly, refusing to meet Finn's gaze. His thumb grazes over the cup, relishing in its warmth.

In the car, they sit in relative silence as Finn drives, Journey playing quietly over the stereo. Finn is the one to break it. “I think Rachel and I are gonna get back together this summer.”

Blaine cocks an eyebrow. “How many times does this make it you two have broken up and gotten back together now?” And really, he's not exasperated with Finn; his annoyance is entirely misdirected but Finn seems to understand.

“I lost count after the fourth time, dude,” he says, trying to keep his voice light. Blaine smiles a little. Encouraged, Finn presses on. “Do you know why I keep going back to her?” Blaine shakes his head. “Because she cares. Rachel cares so damn much about everything. School and her career and her family and her friends and me. She -- I know she has a bad rep sometimes because she'd do anything for the spotlight, but I think... I really think if it came down to it, if she had to pick between being on Broadway and being with me, she'd pick me. Not that I'd ever ask her to do that, because I wouldn't, and most people would disagree and say she'd pick being a star, but the thing is, I think she realizes that she can have both. Her heart's big enough to love us both.” Blaine makes a buzzing sound in acknowledgment and moves his gaze out the window. “It's how I know you and Kurt are gonna work out.”

Blaine looks back at Finn, who meets his eyes for a second and smiles. “I know you're each others' first boyfriends and everything, and to be honest, I wasn't really sure what he saw in you at the beginning. I mean, yeah, you're gay and out and everything. And sure, you're cute and all --” Blaine snorts because really, Finn thinks he's _cute_? Finn seems to realize what he's said and blushes a little. “Not what I meant, dude. I just meant I could see how Kurt would be interested, but he was in love with you for a long time before you finally came around, and I just didn't get it. What made you so special?”

There's a burning in Blaine's chest and he's not sure what it is, but it's unpleasant and he doesn't like it. “It's because you _care_ , dude. Not that we didn't -- we did, we still do. But you took the time to get to know him and help him and be his friend, and that meant a lot to him. You cared, and not about the cause, but about him personally. You _saw_ him.” The burning sensation goes away and Blaine breathes a little easier, feels a warmth spreading through him. He's pretty sure he's never felt this much affection toward Finn before. “He felt like he was invisible and you saw him.”

Blaine swallows thickly and grips the cup in his hand a little tighter. “I'm afraid if I blink, I'll miss him and he'll be gone.”

Finn shakes his head. “Nah. He sees you too.” Blaine blinks and smiles and wants to reach over and hug the living crap out of Finn but decides against it. “Probably one of the reasons he and Rachel get along, well, most of the time, anyway. They both care, they both want everything too much, they both see what other people can't.” A beat, and then, “He sees you. He wants you. I don't think that's ever gonna change, man.”

By the time Kurt and Carole get home a few hours later, Blaine's relaxed a little. When Kurt enters the bedroom, Blaine actually smiles. “Hey,” he greets fondly. “How's your dad?”

Kurt sighs and runs his hand over his eyes, rubbing hard. “Fine. They're letting him come home tomorrow, probably around lunchtime.” He kicks off his shoes into a corner and Blaine knows that even though he's happy his dad's okay, Kurt wasn't prepared to come home to this.

Blaine pats the space on the bed next to him. “C'mere. Sit.”

Kurt obliges but doesn't present his back to Blaine for a massage. Instead, he sits facing his boyfriend, his fingers resting gently on his knees. “I'm okay,” he repeats for the thousandth time that day. “Are you? Finn kind of pulled us apart before I could really be sure earlier.”

“Fine,” Blaine says, and it's a half-truth. “I just... Can we not talk about it anymore? At least not tonight? We're going to have to deal with telling our parents and there'll be mountains of paperwork all summer and I just --” He sighs and closes his eyes, collecting himself. “Let's not make this about me. Let's -- this is about your dad. Let's focus on him.”

But Kurt shakes his head and tilts it to the side. “He's fine, Blaine,” he insists, and Blaine knows his attempts at deflecting aren't working. “I think...” Kurt's quiet for a minute, his eyes trying to read Blaine's face. “I think you need me right now.” Blaine sucks in a breath and Kurt reaches for his hand. “Just... tell me about Chicago.”

Blaine's brow furrows. “I have... I... Every night on the phone and on Skype and in e-mails --”

“No,” Kurt says, and Blaine is seriously confused. “Tell me what -- why do you feel like you're alone there?”

Blaine looks down at his lap. “I just...” He pauses, fighting to control his breathing. His voice comes out shaky. “I feel like I'm suffocating. I'm alone there and no one seems to --” He stops, bites back the words.

Kurt lets out a harsh breath and completes the thought for him. “No one seems to notice?” he finishes.

Blaine bites his lip and meets Kurt's gaze, nodding. “It's like I'm fading into the background and I just -- I don't have to be in the spotlight, Kurt. I just don't want to be alone.”

Kurt squeezes his hand a little tighter. “You're not alone,” he promises. He scoots closer to Blaine and reaches out his fingers to graze Blaine's cheek. “You took care of me, then,” he murmurs. “Let me take care of you now.”

Blaine closes his eyes and leans into the touch, breathing out onto Kurt's palm. Kurt seems to take that as an affirmation and leans closer, pressing his lips to Blaine's. Blaine feels more solid beneath him and lets Kurt's hands find his chest, his shoulders, pressing into the muscles. Kurt turns his head a little, and then his tongue is in Blaine's mouth and --

Blaine snaps. He yanks his mouth away from Kurt's, gasping. “Kurt,” he chokes out. Blaine's breathing hard, his shoulders and chest heaving.

Confusion and maybe a little bit of hurt clouds Kurt's eyes for a brief second, but it clears quickly and Blaine finds it oddly calming, watching comprehension dawn on Kurt's face. _He sees you. He wants you._ “Six months,” Kurt reminds himself aloud. Blaine nods feebly, and Kurt's fingers flex against his shoulder. “Never again,” Kurt breathes as he moves toward Blaine's lips again. “We'll never be apart like that again, I promise.” He's mumbling against Blaine's lips now and Blaine's finding it hard to concentrate on his words. “Not alone --” His lips fall to the junction between Blaine's jaw and his ear; he sucks, eliciting a groan out of Blaine. “Let me help you,” he says again, fingers pulling at the hem of Blaine's shirt. “Let me help you breathe.”

Blaine groans again, helplessly, and obliges, letting Kurt discard his shirt. His lips find Blaine's again and Blaine settles into the mattress, letting Kurt guide him. It's not until Kurt's chest makes contact with his -- skin on skin -- that Blaine realizes how easy it is to get lost in him. Kurt's stripped them down to less than bare essentials and his eyes lock on Blaine's and -- _“He sees you. He wants you,”_ crosses Blaine's mind again and he doesn't feel lost at all; he's home.

Kurt's thumb traces his bottom lip and Blaine's eyes flutter shut at the touch. “You're home.” Blaine's breath catches in his chest and Kurt speaks again. “You're always home with me.” Words are impossible so Blaine reaches down at grasps at Kurt's hips, fingers flexing to indicate what he wants. Kurt ruts against him a few times and Blaine gets lost again -- no, not lost, found. He's not quite aware of the absence of heat but feels Kurt settling between his legs, pushing them apart. Kurt's fingers are wet as they push into him and it burns but Blaine feels more alive than he has in six months and he can't quite get over the fact that it's _Kurt, Kurt, Kurt_ above him, in him, with him. It's been so long that he almost doesn't believe it's real.

But it is real, a fact made very clear to Blaine when Kurt removes his fingers and looks up at him through long eyelashes, his hand rubbing up and down Blaine's thigh. Blaine meets his eyes and merely nods, words still too much. When Kurt pushes into him, Blaine reaches up and tugs him down, flattening their chests against each other. A hand on Kurt's left shoulder, his other arm hooked around Kurt's back, Blaine's toes rub against Kurt's legs, silently urging him to move. And Kurt does, pushes forward, thrusts against Blaine, buries his face in Blaine's neck. Blaine's cock is throbbing from the lack of touch but he doesn't even care because Kurt's here, in the flesh, in him, with him, moving against him, an anchor --

Kurt lifts his head from Blaine's shoulder and stares down at his boyfriend in alarm. “Blaine, are you -- why -- you're crying.”

And he is, Blaine is, he knows that, and he hates it but he can't help it because Kurt is beautiful above him and this is all he's ever wanted: a way to get home. Kurt reaches down to wipe the tears off of Blaine's face and his touch makes Blaine cry in earnest because Kurt is real and he belongs to Blaine -- no, Blaine belongs to him, always has, and Blaine thanks his lucky stars that he came to his senses and saw the light, saw Kurt -- _He sees you. He wants you_. Kurt's eyes meet his, and Blaine pitches upwards, his lips crashing against Kurt's in a frantic, hazy fashion. Kurt's surprise is muffled against his lips and Blaine grabs at the back of Kurt's neck as he sits up, haphazardly hoisting himself onto Kurt's lap. Blaine sinks down a little further and Kurt thrusts up to meet him; they continue like that for a few minutes, lips and tongues meeting, Blaine's cock rubbing between them. Blaine pulls away, his hands cradling Kurt's neck, and breathes heavily on his face. Kurt lets their foreheads fall together and runs his fingers up and down Blaine's spine, thrusting one, two, three times before arching his back, crying out as he comes. Blaine presses forward for more friction and ruts against Kurt's stomach twice before he does the same, gasping. They fall back onto the mattress, Blaine's cheek pressed against Kurt's chest.

Blaine's world goes dark until morning, when he opens his eyes and finds Kurt hovering over him, his hands brushing Blaine's hair out of his eyes. Blaine blinks and frowns at the vest he finds on Kurt's body. “Time is it?” he mumbles sleepily.

“Eleven,” Kurt says softly, smiling at him. “Finn took Carole to pick up my dad; they should be home soon. I thought I'd make everyone brunch. Wanna shower first?” Blaine nods and moves to lift himself from the bed, letting Kurt kiss his cheek before heading downstairs.

When Blaine joins him a half hour later, the kitchen is full of chatter and laughter and warm smells. Finn meets his eyes first and the rest of the family follows his gaze; four pairs of eyes stare at him but Burt claims him first, resting a hand on his shoulder as he looks down, studying Blaine's face. “You okay, kid?” Blaine nods and he's not lying; Burt seems satisfied and claps him on the shoulder, ushering him into the room.

Kurt walks up to him quietly and sets a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of him, steam rising from it in curls. “Eat,” Kurt whispers into his ear. “You've gotten so thin.”

Blaine realizes that's probably true; he lost twenty pounds instead of gaining the freshman fifteen. Kurt glances down to where his thumb caresses over Blaine's jaunty hipbone, and Blaine caves. He looks up and smiles at Kurt, catching his hand briefly. “I'll ask for seconds,” Blaine promises.

Blaine is nineteen but as Kurt holds his hand and fusses over him, Blaine feels like he's lived an entire lifetime.

Kurt returns to the stove to watch over another batch, but when he glances over his shoulder, eyes trained to find his boyfriend, Blaine _breathes_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaine is twenty-two and in his first year of law school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings (if any):** Language, sex

Blaine is twenty-two and in his first year of law school. And against his sensibilities, he's come back to Ohio with Kurt for Christmas instead of staying holed up with his textbooks in their tiny New York apartment. It's their third day in the Hudson-Hummel household; Carole's at her office Christmas party and Finn insists on dragging Kurt out to the mall for some last minute Christmas shopping (“Leaving Rachel until the last minute doesn't surprise me, Finn, but your _mom_?” Kurt had chastised scathingly). Kurt invites Blaine to join them -- something Finn enthusiastically supports because hey, he needs all the help he can get -- but Burt comes out of the kitchen and offers Blaine a beer and, well, Blaine can't exactly say no. He offers Kurt an apologetic smile which Kurt returns, his smile a little too knowing for Blaine's liking. He settles onto the couch and Kurt kisses him goodbye, dragging Finn out by the hand in a militant fashion.

When they leave, Blaine's eyes linger on Kurt's frame a little too long. Burt clears his throat. “So how long have you wanted to marry my son?” Blaine whips his head around, startled, but Burt just grins. “I see the way you look at him. Hasn't changed in six years, kid.”

Blaine looks down at his hands. “Since the accident,” he admits.

Burt lets out a low whistle. “That's goin' on what, three, three and a half years now.” Blaine makes an impatient noise but Burt can tell he's more annoyed with himself than anything else. “Did it just hit you or you think you've always known it?”

Blaine looks up and stares across the room thoughtfully because, hey, this is the first time anyone's ever asked him to describe his relationship with Kurt. “It's like... It's like being a blind man in a long tunnel, and all of a sudden you see this light at the other end. It's new and inviting and beautiful, but you have to get to the other end before it hits you full force, blinds you, surrounds you.” Blaine's talking with his hands like he always does, creating an imaginary tunnel in front of his face. “It's always been like that with Kurt. He's always been there and then there's a moment where I just...”

“Feel like you're seeing him for the first time?” Burt offers.

Blaine finally turns to look at him. “Yeah.”

Burt studies his face for what feels like days. Blaine shifts uncomfortably, unsure what the next move is supposed to be, whose move it is to make. Finally, Burt reaches up and unhooks a chain from his neck and holds it out to Blaine. “Here.”

Blaine's gaze falls from Burt's face to the object dangling in front of him. His breath catches in his chest. “Mr. Hummel --”

“Burt, Blaine. I've told you that a million times. If you're going to marry my son, I think we can forgo the formalities, don't you?”

Blaine draws in a breath. “Burt. You don't have to do this.”

Burt leans forward and the chain swings in the air. “Just take it.” Blaine heaves out a sigh but reaches forward and takes it, his fingers running over the curves of the object Burt's just given him. “Kurt's mom gave me that when we got married.” Blaine looks up, blanching, shaking his head. He tries to give it back but Burt holds up a hand and pushes him back. “After she died, I didn't take it off for a year. It just didn't feel right. And even after that, I kept it on that chain. Then I met Carole and...” Burt holds up his left hand and gold reflects off of Blaine's irises. “She'd want you to have it. She'd want you to give it to Kurt. She'd like you. Hell, I like you.”

Blaine blushes and glances back down at the ring, rolling it between his fingers. “Thanks.”

Burt nods and settles back into his armchair. “You, uh, figured out how you're gonna ask him? When?” Blaine shakes his head but pockets the ring. They both take a swig of beer. “How are you kids doing out there? You stayin' on your feet?” Blaine nods and takes another drink. “I know you've both mentioned what you've been up to, but...” Burt hesitates; Blaine tilts his head to the side. “I just wanna make sure you're okay. I know it can be rough out there and Kurt will skate over some of the more... unpleasant parts just so I won't worry.”

“He does,” Blaine reminds him. “He worries about you all the time. He trusts Carole but --” Burt holds up a hand and nods. Blaine's quiet for a minute. “I worry too.”

Burt gives him a once over before chuckling and raising the bottle to his lips. “We're already family, aren't we, kid?”

Blaine's grip on the bottle slackens as he watches Burt, a warmth spreading through his chest. He tries to fight back a smile but fails, glancing down at his lap. “Yeah,” he says quietly, sincerely. “We are.”

Burt grins at him. “So _son_ , be honest with me: how are you boys really doing out in New York?”

Blaine notes the teasing tone in Burt's voice, but his future father-in-law's (and wow, there's a thought) smile is too wide for his words to be anything but genuine. “We're okay,” he assures Burt. “Apartment's small and rent's high and money's tight, but we're okay. It's always been like this.”

“Kurt's wardrobe must be suffering,” Burt says, and Blaine knows he's completely teasing now.

Blaine laughs. “Never. Kurt is an excellent bargain shopper. He found a Marc Jacobs cardigan for a _third_ of the original retail price last week.”

Burt's educated enough to understand the significance. “Sounds like our Kurt.” Blaine's heart seizes on the word _our_ but he doesn't comment. “Maybe he won't need your big lawyer's salary to keep you both well-dressed after all.”

“Mmm,” Blaine says noncommittally.

“He's doing okay working for what's-her-name?” Burt asks.

“Valerie DesJardins,” Blaine supplies, setting his empty bottle down on the coffee table.

“She's not working him too hard? Taking advantage of him?” Burt fishes, eyebrows furrowed.

“No,” Blaine insists. “I know you're worried that he loves the job too much to complain if the demands are unreasonable, but she's good to him. He --” Blaine pauses. “Kurt wouldn't want me telling you this, not yet.”

Burt surveys his face for a minute. “You don't have to get specific,” he offers finally. “As long as he's happy there and he's not working himself to the bone --”

“He's fine,” Blaine assures him. “Fantastic, really. He really lucked out working for a designer like her.”

Burt seems convinced, and the front door swings open. Carole, Finn, and Kurt all trundle in at the same time, brushing snow off of their shoulders. Finn immediately bolts upstairs and, at Carole's puzzled expression, Kurt clicks, “We were out Christmas shopping for you.” Carole laughs and shakes her head, sauntering up to Burt and pressing a kiss to his temple.

Kurt curls up next to Blaine on the couch and takes his hand, resting his cheek on Blaine's shoulder. Blaine can see words threatening to burst from Kurt's lips but his boyfriend remains quiet until Finn reenters the room. “Valerie called,” he murmurs against Blaine. Hope springs up in Blaine's chest but he waits for Kurt to say more. Kurt clears his throat. “Hey Dad?”

“What's up, kiddo?” Burt laughs as Carole settles onto the arm of his chair.

“Valerie, my boss? She called while we were out.”

Burt raises an eyebrow. “She doesn't want you to come back already, does she? Christmas is in two days, Kurt --”

“No,” Kurt insists, flushing. “She -- I --” Kurt fights to regain his composure, and Blaine rubs at his back encouragingly. “I showed her some of my designs last month -- you know, my sketches...” Burt nods and Blaine holds his breath. “She called to say she finally had time to look them over and... She really liked them.”

Blaine smiles. “She did?”

Kurt looks up at him, beaming. “She did. She wants to work with me, have one of my pieces be a featured piece for her new collection.”

A breath escapes Blaine. “You're kidding.”

Kurt bites his lip and smiles, shaking his head. “She wants me there when it debuts.”

“With all the other designers?” Carole asks, and Kurt nods.

“Whoa,” Finn says from the doorway. “Dude, that's... Wow.” Kurt fights back a smile but Blaine knows it's not self-pride that Kurt's suppressing but pride for his brother's understanding and support.

Blaine glances over and sees affection flooding Burt's face. “I'm real proud of you, Kurt.” Kurt's face _shines_ with happiness and Blaine blinks, momentarily blinded, his eyes fighting to focus again. Kurt feels warm next to him. It takes him a minute to focus his attention on Burt, who is standing in the doorway with Carole at his side. “Blaine?”

“Sorry,” Blaine apologizes. “What?”

“Your parents are coming over on Christmas, right?” Burt repeats. “For dinner?” Blaine nods, shifting uncomfortably, and Kurt squeezes his hand. “Night, kids.” Finn disappears upstairs to wrap Carole's present and call Rachel.

Blaine shifts on the couch, turning Kurt to face him. “Baby,” Blaine breathes, cupping Kurt's face in his hands, “I am so proud, so happy for you. You deserve this.”

Kurt blushes and the lights from the Christmas tree dance across his face. His smile widens, and he reaches up to cover Blaine's hands with his own. “Did you have a good time with my dad?” Kurt asks, and a million and one phrases run through Blaine's mind -- _my dad, Burt, your dad's ring, our dad, I'm gonna marry you some day_ \-- “Blaine?”

“Sorry,” Blaine says, startled. “Sorry.”

Kurt leans against the back of the couch, an amused smile on his face. “Where are you tonight? You're a million miles away.”

But Blaine smiles and mimics the position, shaking his head. “No,” he placates. “I'm right here.” Kurt raises his eyebrows and lets out a half-disbelieving laugh. “Right here,” Blaine insists, lowering his voice and scooting toward Kurt. “Home.”

Kurt smiles warmly at that and can't seem to take his eyes off of Blaine and Blaine feels like the sun, the center of an orbit, Kurt's orbit. “I love you,” Kurt says softly. Blaine leans forward and presses their lips together, his nerves tingling. Kurt pulls away slightly, his voice high and breathy when he speaks. “Upstairs?” he suggests.

Blaine's brain short-circuits for a minute because, honestly, that hadn't been his intention. But Kurt's fingers are dancing against his skin and suddenly Blaine can't think of anything else, is flooded, blinded with a mad desire to touch, to feel. He takes Kurt by the hands and leads him up the stairs, locking the bedroom door behind him. Kurt reaches for his belt buckle but Blaine bats his hand away. “No,” he says impatiently. “Tonight's about you.” He hears Kurt start to voice a protest but crushes his lips with his own in an attempt to silence him. “Let me,” Blaine growls against his throat, working Kurt's pants over his thighs and to the floor. “Let me touch you --” He backs a naked Kurt down onto the bed. “Show you --” Blaine hoists his own shirt over his head but leaves his boxers on. “-- just how proud I am --” His lips trail down Kurt's torso and Kurt is writhing beneath him. “-- how much I love you --” He pushes a hand down on Kurt's stomach to prevent him from arching upward. “-- how much I want you --” His breath comes out hot and heavy over Kurt's cock and Kurt whines. “-- how much I need you.”

“ _Blaine_ ,” Kurt hisses. Blaine obliges with the unspoken plea accompanying his name and takes the head of Kurt's cock in his mouth, his fingers settling around the base. Kurt's back arches upward at the absence of Blaine's hand and Blaine is suddenly a _slave_ to gravity. He meets Kurt's movement, sucks in a little more, and Kurt moans above him. Blaine smiles and drags his tongue along the underside, feeling Kurt's legs tremble beneath him. “Blaine, Blaine,” Kurt pants, fisting a hand in Blaine's hair. “You -- you don't know how good this feels.”

On the word _feels_ , something clicks inside Blaine's head and he understands why Kurt's acting like this is the first blowjob he's ever had. His hands are gripping Kurt's hip and squeezing the base of his cock and his tongue drags against it lazily, his lips relishing the taste, the warmth, the hardness, the feel, as he bobs up and down, his head changing angles every so often when Kurt gets a little too quiet; Kurt's hand clenches and unclenches in his hair, and his legs rub against Blaine's torso and hips. There's so much to _feel_ , so much to take in, that it's a wonder it's never been this much, too much, before. And there's more, endless possibilities, Blaine realizes, to touch and feel, so he moves a hand from Kurt's waist down to his balls and presses his palm against them; Kurt's hips jerk up violently and he can't seem to find it in him to stop, but Blaine doesn't mind. As Kurt's cock disappears completely into Blaine's mouth, Blaine moves his hands again, desperate to feel more. One hand caresses Kurt's hipbone and the other reaches up for Kurt's free hand to thread their fingers together.

Blaine hums, his lips vibrating against Kurt's cock, and Kurt starts shaking violently. “Blaine --” he chokes out, thrusts into Blaine's mouth once, twice -- heat fills Blaine as Kurt comes warmly down his throat. Blaine swallows and Kurt seizes a little against him but starts to relax under Blaine's touch, letting Blaine slip him slowly from his mouth. Blaine looks up and Kurt looks as flushed as Blaine feels. Kurt smiles breathlessly at him and tugs Blaine's hand, silently beckoning for him to come closer.

Every pore, every nerve in Blaine's body is begging for more contact, more something, anything, more Kurt. But when he curls up at Kurt's side and Kurt's hand reaches down to palm him through his boxers, Blaine grabs his wrist to still him, shaking his head. “But,” Kurt breathes, still fighting to catch his breath, “Blaine.” Kurt glances down and Blaine follows, his own erection tenting his boxers. “Let me --” Kurt starts, moving to touch him again.

Blaine shakes his head again, still holding Kurt's wrist, and smiles. “It'll pass,” he promises. “Tonight's about you.” Kurt's eyes burn into him -- _He sees you. He wants you._ \-- and Blaine feels some of the blood start to rush from his pelvis back to his brain, his heart. He breathes a little easier. “ _I_ want to touch _you_ tonight,” Blaine explains, trying to emphasize the right words. Kurt doesn't speak, just stares at him as their breathing calms, and when Blaine starts to soften against his thigh, Kurt tugs him closer. Blaine rests his head against Kurt's chest and presses his lips to the skin, more to taste, more to feel.

Blaine is twenty-two and doesn't quite have his life figured out but Kurt's as fingers move over his skin, Blaine remembers what it feels like to be anchored.

He runs his fingers over Kurt's, trying not to linger too long on his ring finger, hears Kurt's heart beating against his eardrum, and Blaine _feels_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaine is twenty-six and packing up his briefcase while simultaneously texting Kurt -- _Can you bring my guitar?_ \-- when his boss, his _boss_ boss, one of the partners of the firm, sidles up to Blaine's desk, mug in hand, eyes falling to the frame on the desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings (if any):** Language, sex

Blaine is twenty-six and packing up his briefcase while simultaneously texting Kurt -- _Can you bring my guitar?_ \-- when his boss, his _boss_ boss, one of the partners of the firm, sidles up to Blaine's desk, mug in hand, eyes falling to the frame on the desk. “Spending Thanksgiving with the boyfriend?”

Blaine looks up, a little startled. He nods. “His family's coming in.”

His boss nods, eyes still lingering on the picture of Blaine and Kurt. “Why don't you take Friday off?” he offers. “Come back fresh Monday.”

Blaine blinks. “Are -- are you sure? I know we're behind on depositions; I can come in Friday --”

“No,” the other man cuts in. “Take Friday off. You're more useful to me with a fresh pair of eyes.”

Blaine fidgets uncomfortably but reaches out his hand. “Um... well, yeah, thanks then.”

His boss raises his hands and shakes his head, and as Blaine heads for the elevator, he thinks he hears him say, “Good luck.”

When Blaine finally has the bar in his sights, Kurt's waiting for him outside, scarf wrapped tight around his neck and pulled up over his chin, Blaine's guitar case clenched tightly in his hand. “You got my text.”

Kurt turns and smiles. “I did.” He transfers the case into Blaine's hands, his hand reaching out to cup Blaine's cheek. “You look tired.”

“I am,” Blaine sighs. “But my boss gave me Friday off.”

Kurt smiles a little wider but bites his lip. “So, I have a surprise for you.”

Blaine raises his eyebrows. “Good kind?”

Kurt's fingers twist inside of his hands. “I'm... not sure.” Blaine inclines his head as if to say _get on with it_. “I may or may not have invited your parents for Thanksgiving?”

Blaine takes in Kurt's face, trying to figure out the implied meaning. After a minute, he glances at the door. “They're inside with your parents and Finn, aren't they?” Kurt's cheeks color and Blaine shakes his head. “My dad's ten times easier to handle when he's around yours. I'll be fine.” Blaine can already see the words _Are you sure?_ forming on Kurt's lips. “I'm _fine_ , Kurt. Let's just... get in there, yeah? Try to enjoy our time off.”

Kurt purses his lips but nods. “Why'd you ask me to bring your guitar?”

Blaine pushes the door open and lets Kurt walk in past him. “Open mic night. I just wanted to relax a little.” The smile is back on Kurt's face as they greet their families at a cluster of tables. And really, it's not so bad, he thinks, all smiles and hugs and laughs and _good to see you_ s. But he's been working his ass off and he's tired and really, he wants nothing more than to burrow under some blankets with Kurt and never come out. Unfortunately, he's a few hours away from that so he opts for the next best option and hoists his guitar onto the dimly lit stage.

He thinks about work and trying to find some _direction_. He thinks about how their dads are sitting next to each other wearing the same grin but they're not the same person, never the same. He thinks about degrees and caps and gowns, about bills and the scribbled plans in the boxes of their calendar. He thinks about promises and chord progressions and the guitar strings under his fingers. He thinks and thinks as he strums and then he opens his eyes and in the dimly lit bar, his eyes find Kurt. Kurt, whose arms and legs are crossed identically. Kurt, who's smiling up at him. Kurt, who even in shadow is practically _glowing_ , like, like...

Like a light at the end of the tunnel.

Blaine's heart catches in his throat and he blinks, _blinded_. His muscles fail him and he stops strumming. The bar is eerily quiet in the absence of his music. His mouth is dry as he opens it to speak. “I -- nng.” Carole laughs, maybe because she thinks it's cute or maybe because she's trying to break the tension. Fifty pairs of eyes are staring at him but Blaine can't tear his eyes away and so, swallowing, he finally speaks his name. “Kurt.”

Kurt's muscles stiffen and he cocks his eyebrows, his smile faltering. Kurt can read him like an open book, Blaine knows this, knows how transparent he's being right now, but he can't help it. Kurt waits, waits for him to speak again, and Blaine realizes that he has to be the one to go to Kurt, that he can't ask Kurt to come up to the stage. Blaine has to be the one to walk out of the tunnel. So he rises from his stool and pulls the guitar over his shoulder, weaving his way through patrons and dozens of grimy, crowded tables. Metal weighs down his pocket and Blaine swears he's never walked this slowly in his life and it's all going wrong, so wrong. There's not supposed to be beer bottles littering the table and if he had his way, his parents wouldn't be here right now; it's the day before Thanksgiving and this isn't even planned and Blaine's pretty sure that there's nothing less romantic than proposing to your boyfriend in a _bar_. But he keeps walking, because he has to get out of the dark.

He stands in front of Kurt and makes the mistake of glancing inadvertently over at Burt because Kurt's dad is grinning and Blaine feels like an _idiot_ for picking this moment, but really, he can't help it because he doesn't get to pick and choose his moments; they find him. When he shifts his eyes back to Kurt, he finds his boyfriend looking at him with wide eyes and -- _shit_. Blaine figures he should give Kurt a heads up, let him know that he's not having a heart attack or something because the last thing he wants is Kurt to be worried about him.

But Blaine _can't help it_ and he doesn't think before he acts -- he never does -- so he drops to his knees and Kurt starts forward a second too late to catch him. Blaine fights the urge to laugh because he's _supposed_ to be on his knees right now and Kurt, bless him, doesn't realize that. Kurt's hands find his and Blaine lets him take them, trying to focus on the task at hand and -- oh. Hands. Fingers. Ring. Right. He's supposed to being doing this with a ring. Blaine pulls a hand free and digs around in his pocket as Kurt puzzles over him. “Blaine, what are you _doing_?” Blaine raises the ring between them and -- It's still attached to the chain Burt had given him. 'Smooth, really, this has to be the best proposal ever,' Blaine thinks.

Kurt's eyes fall to the ring and chain poised between Blaine's fingers and Blaine can hear Kurt's breath hitch in his chest. All Blaine has to do is open his mouth and _ask_ but the darkness is constricting his windpipe again and he has to swallow several times before he can make a real attempt at it. Before Blaine even gets the chance, though, Kurt whips around and narrows his eyes at his father, silently demanding answers. Burt bites his lip but Blaine realizes that he's not scared of Kurt's wrath right now; he's fighting to keep from laughing and really, a minute or two ago, Blaine would have laughed with him, but right now he's terrified because he has no clue what he's supposed to say. “Kurt?”

Kurt turns around and his face is a lot more open. Encouraged, Blaine draws in a breath and smiles. “I told you I didn't know what I was doing,” he laughs. Kurt smiles, a real, huge, genuine smile and suddenly it's so _easy_. He's pretty sure Kurt's the sun because he's blazing and burning bright and Blaine's not even sure he knows what darkness _is_ anymore. He leans forward and rests a hand on Kurt's jaw. “Marry me,” he breathes. “Just... please.”

Kurt just gawks at him, pupils blown wide and jaw hanging slack, and just as Blaine starts to turn around and _sprint_ back into that tunnel, a voice interrupts them. “ _Dude_ ,” Finn says from across the table. They both look over at him but Finn focuses his gaze on his step-brother. “This is the part where you're supposed to say yes.”

Before Blaine has a chance to react, Kurt barks out a laugh, a full on _laugh_ , before turning to face Blaine again, his hand reaching out to curve around the back of Blaine's neck. Kurt tugs him forward, and as their lips meet, his other hand falls on top of Blaine's, covering the ring, grasping at the chain. Blaine's skin is positively on _fire_ and there is no way they are in New York in November because he's so damn warm. He loses himself in Kurt's lips for a minute, oblivious to anything but the celestial body in front of him. When Kurt pulls away, the word tumbles out of Blaine's mouth before he can stop it: “Yes?”

Kurt laughs, much softer this time, and his eyelashes brush against Blaine's cheeks. “Yes.” Blaine leans in for another kiss and lets gravity pull him there, gives himself over to the path of the orbit he's been spinning on for the last nine years, and for once, Blaine doesn't feel dizzy.

In the car on the way to the Andersons' vacation home in the Hamptons (“Think of the space in that kitchen, Blaine,” Kurt had enthused. “It's Thanksgiving, just say yes and be grateful.”), it all falls apart. Kurt's driving but his gaze keep flickering to his hand, and really, it's like a small child being distracted by shiny objects, Blaine thinks. Kurt chances a glance over at his fiance ( _fiance!_ ) and Blaine smirks. “You're unhappy,” Kurt remarks.

Blaine frowns. “Are you out of your mind?”

Kurt turns his gaze back to the road and clucks in disapproval. “I'm not talking about us. I'm talking about everything else, Blaine.”

“Everything else?” Blaine parrots as he cocks an eyebrow. Really, where is this even coming from? They just got engaged, for crying out loud --

“You never wanted to be a lawyer.”

Blaine rubs a hand over his eyes. “No,” he finally sighs. “No, I didn't.”

“Then why did you go to law school? Why are you interning at Richardson, Dean, and Associates? And don't tell me,” Kurt says, emphasizing a little, “that it's because they practice family law. Because you just told me you didn't want to be a lawyer.”

Blaine leans back in his seat, closing his eyes. He waits a few minutes before he gives Kurt an answer. “I don't know. I... I never knew what I wanted.” He lolls his head to the side, smiling at Kurt through long eyelashes. “Except you. I've always known I want you.”

Kurt shakes his head. “No, you didn't. You didn't always know you wanted me,” he corrects, but he's mostly teasing. There's a pause in the conversation as the car winds through a few curves. “Do you know what you want, now?”

“You,” Blaine teases back. “Always you.” Kurt smirks but Blaine can tell by the expression on his face that he's going to have actually answer that question. “I- It doesn't matter,” he says honestly. “Because you see me work my ass off and come home exhausted and that's why you say I'm unhappy.”

“No, I see you work your ass off and come home exhausted and see our closet of an apartment and wonder why you can't do better, provide better, be better. I see you wish you were doing something worthwhile --”

“Family law _is_ \--” Blaine cuts in.

“I know, I know,” Kurt says impatiently. “Let me finish. I see you wishing you were doing something worthwhile where you can actually see the benefits for the kids. I see you wishing you could actually work _with_ the kids. I see you wanting to be brave enough to do what you want. And I see you sacrificing again and again, and _that_ is why I say you're unhappy.”

Blaine stares at the dashboard as Kurt pulls into the driveway. There's a light on in the front room but Blaine doubts anyone is actually waiting up for them; it's well past midnight. It's dark outside, and Blaine feels that familiar constriction on his windpipe. And then Kurt takes his hand. “You're only a year off of having your teaching credential,” Kurt points out softly.

Blaine squirms uncomfortably. “I can't -- I'm not --” he mumbles incoherently.

“You're smart and you're driven, you love music and you're good with kids.” Blaine shakes his head in protest but Kurt mirrors the gesture, equally defiant. “You are, Blaine. And you are brave enough to at least try to make the difference you want.”

“That's my point, Kurt,” Blaine says, and really, his voice sounds hysterical but it matches how he feels. “I'm not brave. I'm _not_. Not on my own. I've only ever been brave with you.”

Kurt straightens a little. “Then maybe I have to be brave enough for both of us.” Blaine looks over at him, finally, disbelieving. “I know you're going to worry, that you're going to try and be practical and come up with a million excuses and reasons why you shouldn't go back to school to do this, but I'm going to make it easy for you. We're going to be able to pay our rent, and if you're really worried about making ends meet, then start giving piano lessons out of the apartment until you've got your credential and you can find a school with a good arts program that needs a music teacher.”

Blaine smiles weakly. “Are you really planning my entire career change when I know you are trying to orchestrate an entire Thanksgiving dinner for seven people in twelve hours?”

Kurt opens his mouth to offer a snappy reply but something about Blaine's smile must make him think twice, because he returns the smile and leans over to card his fingers through Blaine's hair. “Yes,” he says, and Blaine knows he's not answering the question he just asked. “I said yes for a reason,” Kurt elaborates quietly.

“I'd hope so,” Blaine jokes lamely. “I wouldn't want you to say yes just for the hell of it.”

Kurt's fingers are still making their way through Blaine's locks and Blaine leans into the touch. “I was in such a dark place when I met you,” Kurt says, and Blaine's eyes snap open. “And all around me was this raging storm and all I had to do was look at you and you were like...” Blaine's fairly certain he can't breathe and he is close to praying that Kurt doesn't say what Blaine's thinking because -- “A lighthouse. A beacon. Home.”

That's all it takes. Blaine launches himself across the console between them, grabbing Kurt's head with both hands and crashing their lips together so hard that he's fairly certain they'll bruise. Kurt gasps into his mouth and grabs at Blaine's wrists helplessly. “How do you _do_ that?” Blaine breathes into Kurt's mouth. “How do you just --” Blaine pauses, kissing Kurt between each thought, “-- _know_? How do you --” another kiss, “-- get inside my head --” a kiss and he's almost all the way in Kurt's lap now, “-- and say exactly what I'm feeling?” Blaine swings a leg over Kurt's body and straddles him, the steering wheel digging into his back. Kurt stares up at him, breathless, and reaches down, his hand fumbling for a lever. The seat moves backwards and relieves the pain in Blaine's back. There are so many things Blaine wants to say, _I love you_ and _you're my soulmate_ and _I can't believe you agreed to marry me._

But Kurt seems to get it, knows what Blaine is trying to say without actually saying it, and moves his wrists to Blaine's hips. “So are you going to do it, then? Are you going to let me help you?”

Blaine leans down, his breath hot over Kurt's ear. “You just agreed to marry me. So that means you're in my corner for life, right?”

Kurt shivers. “I'm always yours, if you want me.”

Blaine pulls back, his eyes dark. “Oh,” he breathes, his voice low, “I always want you.” He presses himself closer to Kurt and reaches down, tugging --

The seat falls all the way back and Blaine follows, his lips colliding with Kurt's. Kurt moans and grasps Blaine's hips a little harder. Blaine shifts against him, pressing into Kurt's thigh and Kurt snaps his hips upwards. “Are --” Kurt gasps as Blaine's lips fall to his neck, struggles to form words. “Are we seriously going to have sex in this car? What are we, seventeen?”

“Twenty-six,” Blaine playfully reminds him as his teeth nip at Kurt's clavicle. “Twenty-six and all grown up and yes, about to have sex in a car outside of my parents' summer house.” Kurt rolls his eyes as his fingers reach down to unbutton Blaine's slacks. Blaine's quicker, already holding Kurt hot and heavy in his hand by the time Kurt's hand slips into Blaine's waistband. Kurt groans and reaches down, pulling at the lever again. He pulls the seat halfway up and Blaine out of his boxers and they're so _close_ \--

There's a swoop low in Blaine's abdomen and he chokes out a gasp as Kurt looks up at him. “What?” Kurt says, catching his breath. “What is it?” Blaine glances down and covers Kurt's hand with his own, his thumb tracing the metal on his finger, cold and foreign on Blaine's skin. Kurt moves to switch hands but Blaine stills him, shaking his head. After a moment, he leans forward and presses their cocks together, encompassing them with their hands, warm and heated and -- “ _Oh_ ,” Kurt breathes. Blaine groans and moves his hips forward in time with their hands, the friction electrifying his skin.

Kurt's _hard_ , and Blaine wonders how that's even possible, how Kurt's this worked up this quickly, but Kurt starts to move against him, hips jerking upward, and Blaine can't imagine it _not_ happening this way, not _feeling_ this way. There's just so much of Kurt to touch, to feel, and the metal catching against his skin can't be good for him but he doesn't even care, it feels so good, and each jerk reminds him that _Kurt said yes_. He moves his hand a little faster and rests his forehead against Kurt's, exhaling sharply. “ _Kurt_ ,” he grinds out.

Kurt's panting against him but he's smiling and he's so damn calm. “Been awhile, hasn't it?” Kurt laughs breathlessly. Blaine doesn't laugh, just says Kurt's name again, and Kurt brings his free hand up to cradle Blaine's jaw. Blaine's eyes open and his heart practically leaps out of his chest; this has got to be the most intimate they've ever been and it's not even about the sex, the physicality. Blaine would do anything, be anything, be brave, for the man beneath him. He grips the seat behind Kurt and grinds down, _hard_. Kurt chokes out a desperate sound and twists his hand just so and the metal feels incredible against Blaine's skin. Blaine heaves his hips forward a few more times, his vision blinding as he comes hot and wet over their hands. He feels Kurt's breath on his lips, hears him gasping _love you, love you_ as he follows.

It's several moments before Blaine can collect himself, bring himself to move at all. He grabs Kurt's face with both hands and it's a testament to how much he must really love Blaine because he doesn't even complain when Blaine's hand -- wet and sticky -- makes contact with his cheek. “Kurt,” Blaine says. It's all he can say, repeats it over and over again. “Kurt. Kurt. _Kurt_.” Kurt smiles and closes his eyes as he leans back against the seat, letting Blaine kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his lips.

Blaine is twenty-six but as Kurt's lips move under his, Blaine thinks he'll always feel seventeen.

The light in the house goes out behind them, but Blaine looks at Kurt and _sees_.


End file.
